


Warranted

by TheRightPurpleElves



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Modern AU, Modern AU with Magic, Police AU, Slow Burn, and a badass policewoman, eventually policing wives, i'm a big ol sap, jaina is easily flustered, oh and very much in need of a policing wife ok, sylvanas is a tease, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 17:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18077681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRightPurpleElves/pseuds/TheRightPurpleElves
Summary: DCI Jaina Proudmoore's sting doesn't go quite as planned. The disappearance of Crown Prince Arthas Menethil is hanging over Eastern Kingdoms Police. And a high elven DCI spots an opportunity.





	Warranted

  Theramore is a quiet, rainy, and surprisingly marshy corner of Kalimdor that falls, for some reason, under Eastern Kingdoms Police’s judiciary. Jaina’s never quite figured out why; could have been the harbour linking to the Wetlands, or the large human population, or even some vague corner of the Isle’s history linking it to Gilneas or Kul Tiras. She was little more than a studious DC when she was assigned here for a week and her only duties were escorting a very pleasant, very drunken high elf home and chasing an angry goose out of the bakery.

 

  DCI Jaina Proudmoore flicks her glasses down onto her nose and peers, clutching her coffee mug to her chest, at the undercover officers clustered within Theramore Inn’s broom cupboard. Pained is trying and failing to straighten her wig; DC Sparkshine is squinting at her files past the enormous fake spectacles. DS Sanguinar is juggling a thermal flask of coffee with three sets of wires tangled up in each other. And to top it all off, DI Marris hasn’t even turned up, in spite of EKP pulling everyone off holidays and extraneous duties to search for the missing Menethil. “Does anybody know if Sergeant Eyegouge is still at the custody desk?” she sighs as Pained’s wig flops over her eyes and she snarls. “Just take it off, Pained. Your eyebrows are still indigo. It’s probably easier if we just stay out of sight until we’ve got the evidence we need.”

 

  The night elf throws it into a mop bucket. “Valeera, coffee. Please. Or I might just stab someone.”

 

  “Just as soon as I-” The staticky whine that erupts from the wires has them all ducking away, hands over their ears. “Shit! I think I disconnected it!”

 

  “Let me help,” Kinndy offers, grabbing at the wires. “Mmm, might’ve found something- this one seems stuck.”

 

  “Kinndy, that’s the drawstring from my jacket,” Jaina says gently.

 

  “Oops.”

 

  Pained snatches the glasses from Kinndy’s face and throws them after her wig. “I love generous police budgets for undercover disguises. We’ll definitely fool our friendly neighbourhood dealers looking like the understudies for The Murloc and the Beanstalk. This jack goes in-” Another screech. “Not there.”

 

  Something bangs on the door. “You nearly done in there? I need my dustpan and brush!”

 

  “Sorry, Janene!” Jaina plasters on a big smile, cracking the door open just an inch. “Nearly done! The EKP thanks you enormously for your help and we will be recommending any further business in Theramore comes straight to you.”

 

  One hand darts back to retrieve the dustpan and brush. “Are these what you were after? It’s such a lovely rug you have in the bar area, I would hate to see it stained. Thalassian?”

 

  Janene’s hard face softens into something approaching a smile. “It is. A gift from my son in law when I first opened. The gold inlays are from Suramar.”

 

  “Wow! They’re so intricate,” Jaina gushes, motioning frantically for the others to hurry up with her other hand. “Would you mind if I gave you a hand? After you opened your doors to us at the last minute, it’s the least I can do.”

 

  “If you insist.” Janene strides away. Jaina turns and fixes her officers with a gimlet-eyed stare.

 

  “Get them working within five minutes.”

 

  “Yes, DCI Proudmoore,” all three mumble.

 

  Jaina opens the door fully. “A tip for you all. Be nice to the innkeeper. Everyone talks to the innkeeper.” And she’s gone, footsteps thudding down the stairs as Valeera dumps the heap of cables in Pained’s lap and she sighs heavily.

 

  “Thanks for that, Valeera. Coffee.”

 

  “Alright, alright, as long as you help with the… oh, Sunwell give me strength. She’s drained the whole thing.”

 

  “By the Mother Moon, Kinndy, you left it with Jaina?”

 

  “Pained, I am not paid enough to do the kinds of coffee runs DCI Proudmoore needs.”

 

-0-0-

 

  “I’m not sure Janene wasn’t playing a trick on you, telling you we could hide here, Jaina.”

 

  “It’s only trash. In another ten minutes, you won’t notice it.” Jaina’s voice is nasal through the hand over her mouth. “It’s not for long. I once had to hide in a wardrobe for two hours when a suspect came home as we searched his house.”

 

  “Two hours?”

 

  Her face twists into a grimace. “He’d brought a date home. I was searching his bedroom. I’m grateful the then DCI Whisperwind didn’t ask for too detail a report afterwards.”

 

  Even the memory is enough to set her cheeks burning. Kinndy’s shoulders are shaking with laughter by her arm. “Couldn’t you have teleported?”

 

  “Not enough space to cast without alerting them. I’d have had more hope reaching Narnia.”

 

  Their chuckles peter out into silence, watching the blacksmith’s yard through the damp fog drifting off the Harbour. Valeera fumbles in her pocket to offer round a packet of mints. Pained tugs her phone out and starts messaging in Darnassian. Knees starting to ache, Jaina throws her jacket onto the floor and plops down, rubbing her eyes beneath her glasses; Kinndy scratches at the red mark on the bridge of her nose and shuffles, constantly glancing down at the police tape cordoning off the central dock.

 

  “We give it another ten minutes and you lot can head back to Lordaeron before we’re cut off by the portal curfew,” Jaina says, yawning and stretching her legs out as far as she can. “Janene promised to keep the kitchen going until midnight for me. Rockscale cod and chips. An old Kul Tiran classic.”

 

  Pained licks her lips. “I haven’t had fish and chips since the team building event in Boralus. They were a little soggy, though.”

 

  Jaina groans, letting her head fall back against the wall. “For the last time, I did _not_ mean to summon anything. I was just trying to demonstrate to Valeera how tidesages work. The elemental was merely an old friend and wanted to get to know my colleagues.”

 

  Pained opens her mouth, but a sideways glance from Valeera stops her. “I had no idea you were that powerful, Jaina. High elves usually claim to have the most powerful magi, but that? You barely blinked and the Harbour was yours to command.”

 

  Blushing, Jaina rubs self-consciously at one freckle-smattered cheek.

 

  “You don’t think these dealers are linked to Menethil?” Kinndy says suddenly, eyes fixed on the car park. “Just seems- we’re in Theramore, he went missing in Theramore…”

 

  “It’s another line of enquiry. But these have been on our radar for some time. Usha seemed to think they were small fry, working for bigger fish.”

 

  “They look pretty big to me.”

 

  “Kinndy, I don’t want this to sound insensitive, but-”

 

  “No, they do,” Pained says, and motions to the two hulking night elves stepping out of a brand-new car and motioning a gaunt troll forwards from the shadows.

 

  Jaina edges forwards to get a better view of the two men as Pained tugs a camera from her pocket and begins to click away. One of the elves opens the rear door and reaches in for a bag bulging with goods, setting it on the roof of the car and fumbling around inside as the opposite door opens and a high elf steps out, tucking silvery-blonde hair behind her long ear and leaning nonchalantly against the vehicle.

 

  “It looks like satyr’s grass to me,” Valeera murmurs.

 

  “Smells strong,” Pained replies, nose scrunched in disgust. “Don’t know how they can stand it-!”

 

  Her ears jerk round as a human in ragged apprentice’s robes bursts from the door inches from their hiding place and dashes over, gibbering delightedly at the sight of the drugs. “By Elune, these three truly think they own the place. Look at them. Bet they’re not even false plates.”

 

  Warrant card held lightly in one hand, Jaina watches as the night elves start to split the green, leafy substance into bags. The high elf tugs a set of scales out from the rear seat and one night elf starts weighing it as the other rips open the pouches of money proffered by the huddled customers and counts the coins out into one large hand.

 

  “This is top quality,” he says, loud enough this time that Jaina can hear. The troll starts to speak, eyes wide and desperate, and he holds a hand up to cut him off. “You want cheap shit, go to Gilneas. Ten more.”

 

  “I don’t have dat much, mon,” the troll wails. “You be puttin’ the prices up every week! Please, friend!” He casts a pleading look at the high elf, who turns her head away. “Please, good lady! You be takin’ care of ol’ Chokor before!”

 

  “Ten more gold,” the night elf growls.

 

  Sniffling, the troll stuffs his hand into his pocket and tugs it back out to slam into the night elf’s. “Maybe I be tellin’ da police about ya little rendezvous here, Tereth.”

 

  The night elf laughs. There’s no mirth in the sound. “Here. Don’t take it all at once. What am I saying? Of course you will-”

 

  The moment the bag is in Chokor’s hand, Pained leaps from behind the bins with a cry that sends the human and the troll bolting for cover, but Tereth is a second too late, crunching to his knees with the force of Pained’s landing; the other night elf runs only for Valeera to catch one long leg with her rope and bring him crashing face-first to the ground as Jaina sprints after the high elf and blinks forwards to grab her by the elbow and slam her against the closest wall, pinning her in place with one arm behind her back as she squirms for her jacket pocket.

 

  “You’re under arrest for dealing controlled substances,” she hisses in one long ear, one hand holding her warrant card where the woman can see, the other hastily conjuring arcane cuffs around the high elf’s wrists. “Have you got a weapon? Is that why you’re trying to get something?”

 

  “No! I’m trying to get my-”

 

  “Constable! A portal to Lordaeron station, please. Good work on those two.” Jaina beams at Pained, who is sitting on one groaning night elf, and Valeera, who has the other in a headlock. “And some lovely evidence too.”

 

  The high elf squirms and Jaina shoves her back against the stonework, ignoring her hiss of pain. “Hands out of your pockets! You’ll be searched at the station anyway. You can tell us all-”

 

  Something small and wallet-like presses into her stomach, and Jaina glances down to a scuffed warrant card, clutched in the high elf’s long, elegant fingers. “I’m a police officer,” she pants, blood running down one high-boned cheek. “I’m undercover for C Division in Silvermoon. We’ve been tracking a supply of satyr’s grass that we believe is being grown in Dustwallow Marsh. You’re- ow- twisting my elbow.”

 

  “Ah.” Blinking, Jaina takes one hand off the woman’s cuffs to lift the warrant card up to the light, flipping her glasses down and peering at it. “My Superintendent didn’t tell me of any undercover officers.”

 

  “Mine didn’t tell me about a sting.” The high elf licks a drop of blood from her lip and Jaina forces herself to take a breath, palms suddenly sweaty. She gets a nose-ful of Thalassian tulip perfume. It doesn’t help.

 

  “Do you mind if I check the enchantment on this card?” At the woman’s shake of the head, Jaina flicks her fingers over the warrant card; the rune glows ever so slightly. “It’s real. I’ve just arrested a police officer. Well done, Jaina.”

 

  “At least you didn’t try to strip search me.” But the woman’s grin fades at the sight of Jaina’s red hot cheeks. “If it’s any consolation, DCI Proudmoore, my department will find this hilarious.”

 

  Jaina runs a hand over her forehead. “I’m sure mine will never let me hear the end of it. I’m so sorry- what do I call you? My written Thalassian is very rusty.”

 

  “Don’t worry.” The high elf offers her a smile, even as blood drips from her chin. “DCI Sylvanas Windrunner, here on the orders of Superintendent Lor’themar Theron, who is not known for his interdepartmental communication.”

 

  It’s a very beautiful smile, her long hair falling into silvery-blue eyes, and Jaina curses herself as heat continues to rise in her face. “My apologies, DCI Windrunner,” she manages to get out, aware that her voice sounds a touch strangled. “And I am so sorry for injuring you.”

 

  Sylvanas barks out a laugh. “Nothing to apologise for. I’d never normally complain about being pressed against a wall like this.” And the look she throws Jaina is nothing short of cheeky.

 

  “I usually buy them a drink first,” Jaina blurts out, and immediately wishes she could bite out her own tongue as Sylvanas laughs. Where did _that_ come from?

 

  “Touché, DCI Proudmoore. And regardless, it was a very efficient arrest.” She glances back towards her wrists. “Would you mind?”

 

  “Yes, of course.” Cheeks still burning, Jaina flicks a finger and the handcuffs disappear. “I will get you a healing potion as soon as we have these in custody. A-and if you do want a drink, I’m sure I can stretch that far too.”

 

  “I’d prefer a coffee.” The wide, elegant smile appears again as Sylvanas steps away from the wall and rubs her bloodied cheek. “We’ll call it even then.”

 

  “Jaina?” Kinndy’s voice makes her jump. “The portal’s ready. Valeera’s complaining that this one is winding her up- Jaina, you haven’t put cuffs on her!”

 

  “No, Kinndy, she’s one of us!” Jaina quickly holds the Thalassian warrant card up. “I’ll explain at the-”

 

  “BITCH!” roars the night elf held by Valeera, and in a burst of pure fury knocks her to one side and charges at Sylvanas and Jaina flings a frostbolt at his legs in the same moment Sylvanas kicks upwards and sends him crumpling to the ground, groaning and clutching his gonads.

 

  “Nice shot,” Sylvanas says, watching him writhe on the ground, legs trapped in ice.

 

  “Right back at you.” Jaina glances up to Valeera, sat in the dirt rubbing her head. “Don’t worry, Valeera, it happens. He’ll be singing soprano for a bit. You three- back to Lordaeron, and I expect reports written by midday tomorrow, including one from DI Marris as to where the fuck he was tonight. I will take DCI Windrunner and find out what’s going on.”

 

  Pained peers at Sylvanas, eyes narrow. “Wait. Windrunner? Do I recognise you from somewhere? Does the 3rd Regiment of Azeroth ring a-”

 

  “Maybe,” Sylvanas says, voice clipped.

 

  “Pained.” Jaina motions to the night elf she’s still sat on. “Time for questions is later.”

 

  “Sorry, DCI Proudmoore. You- up.” In a smooth, practised move, she hauls the elf to his feet and shoves him through the portal. “You’re going to love Sergeant Eyegouge. She has a real thing for drug dealers. A real sharp, real pointy thing that she keeps under the custody suite desk.”

 

  Valeera jogs over, muttering apologies, to grab the still-immobilised elf at Sylvanas’s feet. “I’m so sorry, DCI Windrunner, it won’t happen again. Jaina- see you in the morning.” She loops her rope around the night elf’s frozen ankles and drags him, writhing, back towards the portal.

 

  Letting out a deep breath, Jaina turns and forces a smile onto her face. “I’m staying in Theramore. Please let me find someone to look at your face and treat you to something to eat.”

 

  Sylvanas touches a careful hand to the scrape over her cheek. “As you so kindly insist… and that coffee would be more welcome than ever.”

 

  “Tides, that goes without saying.”

 

-0-0-

 

  “Superintendent Theron sends his apologies for his miscommunication,” Jaina says, sliding down into a slouchy armchair opposite the tired old sofa Sylvanas perches rigidly on. The Theramore Inn is empty save for a handful of Hearthstone players crowded round a nearby table, laughing at the players’ banter. “Which, if I’ve learnt Superintendent-ese well enough, means ‘well done for finding my screw-up and sorting it out’.”

 

   Sylvanas snorts. “Not angling for the top job yourself, then?”

 

  “When I could be amidst all this excitement?” Jaina picks her coffee up off the table and takes a long slurp. Sylvanas’s mug is already drained. “I don’t think I’d be as adept as Tyrande at working with the bureaucrats. Or as patient. You want another? Or something stronger?”

 

  “I need to sleep at some point, DCI Proudmoore. But thank you for the offer.” That smile again. Jaina forces herself to breathe evenly.

 

  “Here!” Janene interrupts her subtle examination of Sylvanas’s elegant, if bruised, face by rounding the counter and dumping two plates of rockscale cod and chips on the table between them. “On the house, DCI Proudmoore. Those fuckers were causing no end of trouble for my patrons… and for me.” And she marches away without another word, leaving Jaina staring at the enormous portions before her.

 

  A snigger opposite her draws her eyes back up. “You make friends quickly,” Sylvanas says, mouth already full. “I hope you didn’t slam her into a wall as well.” She licks her lips and winces as the salt from the chips soaks into the split skin. “Though I’m not going to forget you in a hurry.”

 

  The heat rises in Jaina’s face again. “I’m so sorry about your cheek. It’s too far past portal curfew to find a healer open anywhere, but I’m sure there’s an alchemist open nearby who can provide a healing potion.” Jaina picks up the almost-empty coffee mug. “Soon as I’ve finished this, I’ll go and get something sorted.”

 

  Sylvanas waves a hand at her. “Don’t trouble yourself. It’s late. Besides, the ladies love a girl with a scar.” The smile turns to a smirk as Jaina inhales her last swig of coffee. “My apologies, DCI Proudmoore. I know my jokes are a little full on.”

 

  She leans over the table and Jaina’s eyes widen as one firm hand pats her hard on the back. “Alright?”

 

  “Thank you,” Jaina wheezes. “Was that payback for your cheek?”

 

  Chuckling, Sylvanas leans back in her seat, already picking at the food again. “So how come you’re still in Theramore, but your colleagues headed back to Lordaeron?”

 

  “Menethil,” Jaina says simply. “We have a debrief tomorrow. Apparently Forensics found a scrap of coat belonging to a Menethil on a merchant vessel bound for Stranglethorn- wait, should I be telling you this?”

 

  “Don’t see why not.”

 

  “Just- don’t tell your Superintendent Theron, alright?”

 

  Sylvanas chuckles. “He’ll be too busy trying to suck up to me in the hopes I don’t go to Commissioner Sunstrider. If I get chocolates out of the whole debacle, I’ll be sure to send some your way.” She glances towards the files stacked haphazardly by Jaina’s bag. “You said _a_ Menethil.”

 

  “That’s the problem. Impossible to ascertain which Menethil it came from. We spoke to the royal clothier and all she could tell us was it was fabric from a ceremonial cape. Of which each Menethil has multiple, which are constantly in a state of disrepair from cobblestoned floors. For all we know, it could even have been dropped by someone who picked it up after a royal procession. It’s in for DNA testing now.” Jaina pauses for a mouthful of tender battered cod, closing her eyes to savour it. “Mmm. Sorry, where did you say you were staying tonight?”

 

  Sylvanas’s lips twist into a wry smirk. “I was meant to be getting the last zeppelin back to Orgrimmar, and a city portal to Silvermoon.”

 

  “Fuck!” Jaina leaps up. “We could still probably- shit, no, it’s past portal curfew. Shit! I’m so sorry!”

 

  Delicately munching on another chip, Sylvanas shakes her head. “It’s fine. Janene said there would be a room to hire here.”

 

  “Why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve sent you to Silvermoon! I would’ve been more than happy to!”

 

  Sylvanas puts her last chip back down. “Between you and me, Jaina,” she says, in a voice so soft Jaina has to lean closer, “I’m grateful for the excuse. My family are not… supportive of my lifestyle.” She throws the chip into her mouth and stands, gathering her bag from the chair beside her. “I’ll go and book in.” And she strides away, leaving Jaina frowning at her own plate.

 

  For someone to want to stay in cold, drizzly Theramore in place of returning to the majesty of Silvermoon City? Their family would have to be ogres for it to make any sense. And yet Jaina cannot deny the thrill that went through her when she realised Sylvanas would be mere doors away. She hurriedly plugs her mouth with her last morsel of fish and wipes her fingers on her napkin, determinedly not looking at the long, muscular body leaning against the innkeeper’s desk, fiddling with her phone.

 

  Janene says something, shaking her head, and Sylvanas’s shoulders- not that Jaina is peering through her hair at her, absolutely not- tense up. She leans closer, ears taut, but Janene simply motions back to the empty key cabinet and vanishes into the kitchens, humming under her breath.

 

  Oh, Tides. She doesn’t mean-

 

  Jaina’s heart is hammering as she watches Sylvanas step back. Glance round in her direction, gnawing at her lower lip with one long fang.

 

  _Look- if it is that, Jaina, and you can put clues together, it is two colleagues sharing a room. It is not even vaguely, remotely sexual. You could be as straight as the spires of Dalaran for all she knows. Well, aside from how you flirted back, and how you keep blushing like an idiot every time she so much as breathes in your direction, and repeating your offer to buy her a drink, and having dinner with her… oh no._

 

  Sylvanas approaches with her eyes downcast, hands clasped before her, and Jaina straightens up, forcing her lips into a smile. “I’m told the last room was let out,” she mumbles, fiddling with a hangnail. “I can go and find another inn-”

 

  “This is the only inn in Theramore, Sylvanas. It’s not an issue.” Jaina stands, busying herself tidying their plates into a pile. “I certainly owe you one for the brick wall sandwich.”

 

  “It’s my fault I’m here at all.” Even Sylvanas’s ears are drooping. “My car’s parked near Razor Hill-”

 

  “You’re definitely not walking four miles in the dark, on your own, through Dustwallow Marsh.” Jaina clears her throat. “Look- I know it’s not your case, or even vaguely your jurisdiction, but if you’re determined to make it up to me, I would appreciate a colleague coming with me tomorrow to replace DI Marris. Someone I can consult with on their findings. Would you be willing?”

 

  Sylvanas's eyes go wide; she jerks her head down, reaching up to rub at one long ear. “I’d be honoured.”

 

  “Brilliant.” Jaina takes a deep breath. “Janene- could I get an extra set of towels, please? And a bottle of arcwine. For the room.” And she grabs her own bag and throws it over her shoulder, beaming as brightly as she can at Sylvanas, motioning with her free hand to the stairs. “After you, DCI Windrunner.”

 

  Sylvanas smiles. It’s not the mischievous grin of earlier, or the inquisitive quirk of the lips, but a genuine, wide smile that makes Jaina breathe in sharply. “Thank you, DCI Proudmoore,” she says, and reaches out to take Jaina’s hand in her own bruised one, lifting it to her lips to kiss her knuckles. “You’re very kind.”

 

  “You’re very welcome,” Jaina croaks.

 

  Sylvanas starts up the stairs, and Jaina, exerting conscious effort to breathe normally, follows her- absolutely not her toned, denim-clad backside, she’s absolutely _not_ looking at that at all- up and to her room. Their room. Oh, Tides.

**Author's Note:**

> I cracked. I made the policing AU. I promise to update When She Failed sooner rather than later, just got a lot of uni work on at the moment and this was already mostly written so :( but thank you for reading this far, any feedback is very gratefully appreciated and I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> also: the most GLORIOUS people have been writing/creating Mumvanas art and fics recently. I am blown away by how totally gorgeous their works are! Slackergami and useless_lesbean I am pointing a big neon sign at you! I may not try that angle with this fic but just wanted to show my appreciation :D


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